You’ll never fight alone
by Ldecosta
Summary: Gerard is a suicidal teen, the live of his life, frank left him and his brotger hates him. Suicide references
1. straight to hell

The sun usually rose and brought a warm, cozy feeling to most people's skin, making each hair stand up and the UV rays spread out across their bare skin like paint, but, nothing was usual about Gerard, for him, the sunlight was a curse, a painful headache, the awakening of all he feared, including his own thoughts, so many mornings, he ran the likelyness of being expelled if he just stayed in bed, if he just let time blissfully pass him by, most mornings, it was the act of his mother screaming her head off about how he was "a dissapointment, and now, he was gonna make his brother later," that made him drag his body out of the comfort of his lumpy matress and heap of blankets. Gerard walked slowly to his chest of draws, looking down at the mess of unfolded clothing he chose a black tee, ripped black jeans and a leather jacket.

"Move your ass, Gerard, right now," his mother said furiously, his smug little brother smiling mockingly. Mikey never had a problem getting up in the morning, then again, he didn't have to take sleeping pills just to get to sleep, Gerard and sleep were polar opposites, when the cold night came, Gerard often slipped into a deep sleep, sat at his drawing table, only to wake up with a face covered in blochy ink, but, most nights, it was a struggle to get to sleep, the hours spent tossing and turning, running through all the things that made him anxious, like it was a military chant, telling himself to get by, day by day, it wasn't so hard when he had help, when he took sleeping pills, but the nausia and headaches the next morning brought, almost seemed worse than the exhaustion, but by the time that he passed out on the stairs, going to a lesson, he just accepted his body needed it, whether or not he wanted it was different.. Seeming as Mikey was up much earlier than, he always had time to put on his neatly folded clothes, shower and eat breakfast. Gerad rarely had the luxury of all three.

He poured himself a mug of disgustingly thick black coffee and almost downed the entire thing.

"Gerard, don't talk to me, at all during school, I can't let them know we are brothers."

"What the fuck Mikey, we have the same last name, we get out of the same car and go home in it."

"yeah, whatever, I can't be known as the fag's brother, God I wish you weren't mine, why can't you just run away, just kill yourself."

Gerard shot a look of pure hatred at his brother.

"that's fine," Gerard said, as he realized it was too much effort to shout at his brother.

The car journeys to school were a thing of hell for Gerard, his perfect brother sitting in the front seat, chatting happily to his mother, and him, sat lonely in the back seats his pair of headphones, barely holding together, blaring a Green Day song into his ears. The familiar scenery flooding his car windows and the dread filling his body.

He made his way through the grey rusted gates of his school, vacant looks from homophobic kids, whispering about how he would "rape all the guys in school." he didn't care anymore, he knew they were coming, he knew his school, he knew every book, shelf, and scream that this school hid from the outside world.

He made his way to his locker, which he quickly grew to hate, he hated how he fit perfectly in it, he hated how there still wasn't enough room for his books, he hated having to be bailed out and let out by the janitor after having spent multiple hours sat in the dark, with only his thoughts to entertain him, most of which scared him rather than entertained him.

His eyes flicked through the schedule stuck up on the inside door of his locker.

he felt a firm hand grip his shoulder and pull him to the floor, the hard surface ramming its self into Gerard's back, he felt the shock of his head hitting the floor and spots begin to dance around playfully in his vision. he let out a painful shout, he felt many feet, flying into his ribs, his face, his stomach. he just wanted to grow a pair of wings and fly off into the wind, let it take him away.

"so, Gerard, how was your holiday, First day of senior year and you didn't pop round to say hello," Gerard's bully, Patrick Costello said, mockingly.

Gerard felt all the air escape his lungs, how he envied it.

"Just, Just le..leave me... alone," Gerard said, struggling to find the air to speak.

"now come on, we all have history together, it'll be fun," Patrick said sarcastically.

He dreaded history, he sat right next to Patrick, circled by Patrick's friends, who seemed to find endless entertainment in his pain.


	2. Lost in translation

throughout the whole of history, balls of paper flew at his head, whispers about him circling like voices in his head, he didn't use to mind the name calling, the fear and hatred in peoples eyes when they looked at the school's "faggot," then again, it used to be worth it, he used to drown them out to the sound of Frank's guitar. He missed Frank so much, he felt his heart physically ache, it had been six months since Frank had left, six months since the two boys said goodbye to each other for the last time, gave each other their last kiss and last tearful embrace.

He felt the leg of his chair give as one of Patrick's friends kicked it one too many times. His whole world was flipped on its side and he fell off his chair. The already sore side of his skull was bashed in again.

"BOYS, quit messing around," the teacher shouted as forty sets of eyes stared at Gerard gripping his long red hair, lying on his side.

"All of you, OUTSIDE, NOW."

Gerard slowly pushed himself to his knees and made his way with seven of Patrick's friends into the school corridors.

"Now just what do you think you're doing, interrupting my class," the teacher said, waiting for any of the cowardly boys to reply, but none did.

"Well, just what happened?" he asked again.

"see," brad, Patricks best friend said," Gerard was messing about, swinging on his chair, and it broke. we had already told him to stop, be he didn't listen, then when he fell, we found ironic and funny."

"Gerard! Is this true?" the teacher glared at Gerard as well as every other kid that was out with them, telling him if he told on them, he would beat him to a pulp.

"yes," Gerard said with his head dipped.

"Okay boys, you can go, but not you Gerard!" the boys entered the classroom and erupted into a fit of laughter that was quickly drowned out by the door.

"this is unacceptable behavior, those lovely boys tried to warn you, and you kept of swinging, you have now wasted ten minutes of my lesson, so I will waste an hour of yours, in detention."

Gerard let out a sigh, wondering how he was supposed to get through today, explain why he was late to his parents and have to listen to his goody-two-shoes brother lecture him in the importance of school in front of their parents.

"Don't you huff and puff at me, this is for your own good," Gerard found that hard to believe.

He sulked back into the classroom, every single student slowly panned to stare at Gerard, their faces turning red from holding back a laugh.

He sat hunched in his seat and bowed his head down, trying to drown out the voices, his own and those of the people around him.

"God, he should just kill himself," Gerard heard one of the girls from the other end of the classroom. He hadn't noticed it before, but he had run out of people who cared about him.

He could do it now, get it over with, just run off and do it. At least he could do it alone.

"Umm sir, can I go to the bathroom?" Gerard said with his lanky arm raised in the air.

"Uhh yes but be very, very quick."

Gerard slowly walked out of the room which quickly became a run. He headed to the locker rooms to be alone. He knew no one would be there, he could do it, get it over with, have some poor soul find him and be forgotten in a month.


	3. You’re beautiful to me

**Told from Patrick's POV**

"Uhh sir, I also need the toilet."

"Oh yes that's fine, just be quick and don't spend any time messing about in the bathroom."

I quickly opened the door, but made sure not to make a sound, I wanted to jump Gerard, scare him, but I saw him head off in the opposite direction to the bathroom.

Oh he was off to do some shady stuff, I had caught him doing drugs before, I stole them and sold them, he's such an idiot.

I waited outside the boys locker room for a few minutes, just so he wouldn't expect me.

I pushed the door in and smiled.

It immediately faded.

I saw Gerard slumped in a shower cubicle, the door open and a razor in one hand, that had already been cut, and he was about to cut the other.

I ran as fast as I could and knocked the razor out of his hand, he jumped at the sight of me and dove to retrieve the razor, I held him to restrain him, he was crying and begging for me to let him go.

Oh god, this was my fault, the awful things I did to him, it's only because I was going through my own things, I'm failing everything and I just found out I'm loosing my sports scholarship.

I never meant for him to do this

 **SAME EXPERIENCE. TOLD FROM GERARDS POV**

I walked into the locker room, memories of having my clothes stolen and taking antidepressants flood back with every breath.

I look in my pocket for the small sharpener, I threw it across the room and let shards of sharp plastic fly.

I took the cold blade and headed to a shower. I put it to my cold, pale skin, the first rip felt like it was a burning pain that slowly subsided and I felt like reality was slowly slipping from me.

I heard the door creak open and my heart stopped beating, the blood stopped flowing and our eyes locked on each other, we stayed fixed on each other for mere seconds, but for me, it felt like a painful eternity.

Patrick's bloody athletic body meant he tackled me with ease, his hard shoulders ramming into my ribs. He wrapped his muscular arms round me and held my arms at my waist

"Stop it, let me go, I'm doing everyone a favour," I said as I struggled, reaching for the bloody razor.

He just held me tighter, I didn't realize I was shaking until he held my tear soaked head to his head, we rocked back and forth.

Soon black dotts danced solemnly in the corners of my eyes, I felt him pick me up, he seemed so surprised at how light I was, how faded I was becoming. He ran outside an arm under my knees and my arms.

I heard him screaming into his phone for an ambulance and screams of students coming out of school to see me, unfortunately was not an unfamiliar sound.

I heard melodic beeps that mimicked my heart beat and my vision faded quicker and quicker, maybe this was how my life was always supposed to end, maybe in another world I was never found, maybe in another world, I had a life worth living, maybe.


	4. Im thinking of you

I woke up to pipes in my nose and needles in my arms. I always was deathly afraid of them, but I didn't seem to have the energy to express my usual fearful reaction.

My mother sat at the end of the bed, she had sore eyes, no doubt from crying, I had that look on my face for many days, I had grown used to red and black rings lining my dark eyes.

My father was off shouting at a doctor, he did always feel so insecure about being in charge, maybe that's why he always felt the need to put me down.

My brother had fallen asleep on the small sofa beside my bed, he looked so much smaller than usual, I bet he had fun finding out what happened to me, I wonder if he was disappointed in me.

"Oh my god my baby, your awake," my mom said as she ran to my head and held my red locks in her hands, kissing my forehead and crying.

My brother slowly woke up and ran to my side.

"Oh my god Gerard I'm so sorry, I never meant any of it, I'm so sorry," he too was crying.

My father walked in slowly, he didn't care about me, he was more focused on missing traffic jams and paying my hospital bills. I hated my father so much, he had always looked at me like a failure, like the son who couldn't play sports, like the son who couldn't get the girl, like everything he hoped I wasn't.

My mother had loved me, once upon a time, maybe my successful little brother just shone brighter, he was someone to be proud of, someone to brag about to her friends, someone who she hoped would come back every holiday when he was all grown up.

I couldn't ever stop loving my little brother, even when he called me a fag, pretended I wasn't his brother, told me to kill myself, because he will always be my little brother, the same little brother who I hugged when he won his races, who I stayed up with at night when there were storms because he was to scared to get to sleep, the same little brother I would babysit and play games with before we ate hot pizza.

I turned on my side, away from them all and just let the skin on my thighs touch each other. The worry in their eyes was so unfamiliar and it scared me, now they would be seen as the family with a suicidal child, the parents who couldn't raise a healthy child, a happy child, a straight child.

"Well, you can leave today but we're supposed to keep an eye on you. Get your clothes on and let's go already." My dad said as he scooped up the belongings my mother had scattered across the room.

I heard my father, but his voice seemed like a stranger, his tone was no longer angry, more annoyed.


	5. Its dark tonight

I walked into my room, shocked to see my posters, my drawing and painting equipment, my desk gone, all that was left was wardrobe and my bed, but even that had new white bedsheets that matched the freashly painted walls. I ran to my wardrobe and found only white clothes, what was going on was I going crazy. I turned to leave my strange room and confront my mother but my door was locked, from the outside.

I banged on the door, there was no reply, I banged again and heard a quiet sob escape my mother's throat.

"I'm so sorry baby but the doctors said to keep anything that might hurt you away from you. I'm so sorry," she said as she tried to catch her breath she'd lost from crying.

No they wouldn't, they wouldn't have taken everything, they wouldn't lock me in my room, they wouldn't take anything that made me feel sane. They already had.

I sat on my cold bedsheets and stared at the walls blankly. My mother was clearly watching me through the spyglass on my door that had a clear view of the whole room.

I stared blankly at the wall, letting my thoughts paint images on the blank walls in front of me, imagining colourful streaks of paint, running along the wall, splatters of colour and black, spread across the wall.

I looked at my wrists, I wonder if they told my parents about all the other cuts, all the shallow ones, that never dug too deep.

They might as well have put me in a mental institution. I wonder if they'll send me to school tomorrow. How will they feed me? How will I stay sane if they are stripping away all of my personality? How do they think this will help?

The door slowly unlocked and my father awkwardly walked in to see me huddled up under the covers of my small wooden bed, with my back facing him.

"Hey, Umm your mothers made dinner, would you like to join us?"

I said nothing.

"Okay just come and get some when you are hungry, I'll leave the door open."

He slowly walked out of the room, leaving the door a crack open. His heavy thudding footsteps were a sound I hated, his body sending vibrations throughout the house, marking his territory.

An hour had passed and still I found myself lying under my covers, staring away from the door and at the wall, by now I had carved pictures and images into the walls out of pure boredom, leaving my fingernails sore and covered in flakes of white paint.

Another knock at the door, "Hey honey, there is food on the table, you can come get some, I promise you won't have to sit with us... unless of course that's what you want," she was obviously trying to get me out of my room and get some food in me, but I had completely lost all my appetite.

I didn't reply.

" Look baby, I'm sorry, I promise it wasn't my idea and we only do it because we love you."

Her voices began to crack.

" I'm sorry we didn't know, I wish I could go back, but please," she sat on my bed, my back still turned to face her.

"Please talk to me, please let me help you," she had started crying, and so had I.

"Baby I'm sorry but I can't help you unless you tell me what's going on, you haven't eaten a anything proper in six months, you looks so tired and skinny, you have drifted from all your friends, please just tell me," she was sobbing and she now had picked me up and was hugging me, letting all my tears stain her white top.

"You should know, I will never stop loving you, I know it may seem like it but I will always love you, no matter what you do, but I really need to know what's going on."

"I, i ..just," I tried to get the words out, hesitant to open up, seeming as how much I had hurt before.

"Please honey," she pleaded.

"I really miss him," I said as a wave of emotion hit me, knocking the air out of my lungs and sweeping me off my feet.

"Who baby?"

"Frank, I really miss him," I said as streams of tears fell from my eyes, shattering in impact.

She didn't say anything, she just held me in her arms, rocking me, to ease my pain and kissing my forehead.

"I'm sorry that you felt you couldn't tell me, I'm sorry."

She hugged me tighter and time seemed to lose all meaning, like there was rhyme and reason to it. We just lay in the silence until I drifted off, into a deep sleep, like falling out of a boat and just letting the dark currents sweep you away because where ever you were going was better than where you came.

I woke up to my alarm clock, the only

technology in my room, walked over to my wardrobe and put on a whitewash shirt, and white jeans, my mother had boxed up all my clothes and replaced them with plain white ones, they apparently increased self confidence, to me they just looked like they were begging to be stained, begging to be washed in colour, drowned in vibrant light.

I still had my black leather jacket, seeming as I had been admitted to the hospital in it, I pulled my arms through each roughed up sleeve, careful not to tug at my fresh bandages that wrapped around my wrists.

The feeling of it felt so good, like stepping back into my sling, no matter how much it clashed with the rest of my outfit, no way could I face school without it.

My mother opened my door and brought me a plate of toast and butter, she was happy to see me awake.


	6. Scared and alone

Stares from people were normal, but these felt different, they were no longer judging looks, but worried ones.

"did you hear that he did."

"I saw it all happen."

"I heard he's done it before."

"I heard he did it for attention."

All of these voices run around me, like somehow, me attempting suicide was their thing, just another opportunity to brag about how hard their life as, having to be the one who saw the kid with slit wrists, they didn't care about the kid, I had somehow been left out of my own suicide.

I walked down the halls, I could feel each set of eyes, grazing me, long enough for me to notice, but not long enough to seem rude, like they were looking at me to see how I was doing, but not long enough to seem judgy, they didn't seem to care if the looked judgy a week ago.

My locker had get well soon posters blue-tacked to it, signed by over a hundred people, in all different fonts, in all different colours, I hated it, no, I don't want to be a pity case, if I did, I would have left notes, but I didn't feel like anyone would even care to read them.

I couldn't stand the sight of them, if any of them really knew the first thing about me, they would know I despised those sorts of things, the committee of cheerleaders, writing notes for people and organizing the prom.

I grabbed the rim of the papers highest, and dragged my hands slowly down, pulling each individual card off, people looked at me, shocked, "why would he do that? they were so nice to him and now he is just being rude."

"Well everybody knows he is just doing it all for attention," Gerard had spent so long without anybody's attention, whenever he had it, it felt strange, wrong, like he had done something awful.

I opened his locker, his feet surrounded by papers, found my textbooks and headed off to my first lesson.

The room fell silent as I walked in, I slowly walked to my seat and slouched in it, trying not to think about the images they must have seen of me, shared of me, laughed at because I lay with thin blood dripping from my tattered black t-shirt.

My first lesson of the day, history, I wonder if my teacher knew... of course, he knew, him and all the teachers knew, they gossiped about me and all the students at this godforsaken school.

I distanced myself from everyone else, if I just dreamed of drawing, dreamed of cloud watching and sweaty concerts, the lesson might pass me by, if I just wandered off in my own little world, I might be able to make it through the day.

"Gerard, what year did the attack on pearl harbor take place?" I had been sent crashing down, back into reality, and that hurt like hell.

"umm...sorry, what?"

"I said what year did the attack on pearl harbor take place?"

"uh," my head rushing through everything, every little detail of my memory, "1941."

"well done," he said reassuringly.

It felt like being in a room alone when you were me, like all the things going on in everyone else's life felt so pointless.


	7. I miss them all tonight

people had been following me, constantly checking if I was doing okay, what was I supposed to do, say no, I'm not okay, would they even care, would they honestly sit down and let me pour out all the pain I had bottled up or was it just an ego boost.

I wanted a cigarette so bad, I had sat through four hours of of school, four hours of useless information being drilled into my skull.

When lunch came about, he didn't bother with food, he hadn't been able to feel hungry all day, he just felt normal, and it scared him.

I headed back to the boy's locker room, I was supposed to take my antidepressants twice a day but I had run out of my prescription and was feeling the withdrawal symptoms. I ran quickly to the toilet, attracting the attention of ten other people there and threw my head over the bowl. The sour taste of my own vomit lingered in my mouth.

Five people were now shuffled round the door of my toilet stall, all awkwardly wondering why I was projectile vomiting.

I biped the barf form my lips and took a minute to catch my breath, why me? Why was I the kid that this had to happen to?

The sound of me flushing the toilet alerted the kids stood outside to run away and act naturally as if I wouldn't notice.

I washed my hands and realised I was supposed to change my bandages, where was I supposed to do it, u wouldn't be able to do it anywhere alone, but I could do it outside.

I walked out of the boy's locker room, not caring for the worried looks the boys shared.

I walked up to my locker, opened it and grabbed my last pack of cigarettes.

I walked out of the front door and looped round to the back of the school, there was a small space, that no one knew about, he headed straight there, it was a small opening, it a small group of trees, I used to go there to do drugs after school, and no one knew about it but me, me and... oh god.

"Hey, I just wanted to check your okay," Patrick said awkwardly.

"...sure."

"Look, dude, I'm sorry, I never meant for you to do this."

I really just wanted to be alone, because my bandages desperately needed changing, or they'd get infected.

"Okay, fine whatever."

"No stop, don't just say whatever, I found you, you could've died."

"Yeah, but I didn't, I never asked you to save me okay. Just go away"

"No, after what you did last time you were alone, there's no way I'm leaving."

" you were happy to leave me tied to a goalpost in the rain for five hours, I got pneumonia and almost died, how is this any different."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I had no idea."

"Yeah, you never did, you never cared and neither did anyone else, and you don't have to worry about me, do you really think I would do it at school twice, no, I'm just changing my bandages."

"No, do it in front of me."

"It's none of your business."

"Just do it!"

"No."

He grabbed my sore wrists and I wince in pain, he pulled back my black leather jacket and was confronted by scars running all up my arms.

"Oh my god, you've done this before haven't you. I couldn't see them before because of the blood but, this wasn't your first attempt, was it? how many, how many times have you cut yourself."

"why would you even give a shit, you've almost killed me multiple times, how is when I'm doing it."

"It's not about me, okay, how many times?"

"how is this not about you, hundreds of reasons id o it, you are second top on that list."

"What are you on about, hundreds of reasons, yeah so I was a dick to you, but that's not worth dying over."

"Ohh you think your the only problem I have, well, firstly my parents have decided the second I get home, I'm thrown in my room, which has been stripped bare with just my homework and a pencil, because they're scared I'll hut myself, I've run out of anti-depessants and need to go to th toilets every five minues to throw up, I've overdosed on drugs thee tiimes, my brother hates me, I'm failing every thing and I hate eveything about myself, oh an to top it all of, the love of my life is gone."

Gerard stormed off, he couldn't make it through the day, at the mention of Frank he felt his heart ache and his eyes swell with tears, blurring his vision.

he ran home, he wasn't going to make it to the end of the day if he stayed in that school, have people whispering about him, asking if he is okay, starring intensely at him.


	8. Burn bright

I opened the door, to see my mother shocked cooking something, I didn't care to say hi, I just walked to my room, and shut the door behind me, locking myself in. she hurried behind me and very obviously leaned against the door to see me, but I was sat under the door, the only place she couldn't see me, I'd had enough people stare at me, watch me like I was some fascinating creature they'd never seen before.

I slumped on the bed and began crying, I missed Frank so much, it as like he'd died, left me alone in this terrifying world, I was always thinking of him, what I'd do if I saw him one last time, what I'd say, how I'd hug him and smell his hair, I'd hold him and never let him go, just let myself drift into him, heat my cold hands up on his back, fall asleep to the sound of him breathing , and cry on his shirt and I'd apologise for how we said goodbye, how we hugged and kissed and he drove off, I wondered if he was thinking of me.

I should've gone with him, im eighteen, im an adult, I could've run off with him, but Instead of me running to meet him outside his lovely blue house, that smealt like him and felt like hom each morning, before we walked to school together, I as driven, with two people who felt like strangers, people who I couldn't relate to, who knew nothing about me, but Frank knew everyhting about me, evry little secret, every little regret, and mistake, and I kne the same about him, but despite it all, we loved eahother, I loved him so muh and now he's gone, and the happy person I once was, now replaced by someone I hated, a kid who cut himself, a kidd who as lonely, who people hated.

Fuck. I'm locked in here, and after seeing me storm in here, no way would my mother let me out of here, in fear of what I'd do, instead I huddled under the covers, and just let the migraine in my head mimic the sound of my heartbeat and fall asleep to it, just to remind me I'm alive, but reluctantly, it was only one o'clock, and sleep was a luxury that I couldn't afford.

I looked at what was in my room, all I could find was a bobby pin in the carpet, I used to have hundreds of these things, I used to use them to open locks, so me and Frank could sneak into locked areas of the school, I'd gotten petty good, but since Frank left, those secret little places, felt wrong to visit without him, like watching an episode of your favorite tv show without them.

I put my pillows in the shape that vaguely resembled a person and went over the door, I jammed it i the lok and fiddled around until I head a click, I slowly opened the door and shut it silently behind me as to not alert my mother, I went out the back door and looped back around.


	9. Lost this fight

He realised quickly though that he'd left his leather jacket inside, he couldn't leave it behind, he wanted to die in it.

On Gerard's birthday, Frank had given it to him, he wore it every day since, without fail, right up until he was admitted to the hospital


	10. give or take a vein

I walked slowly, thinking how no one would find me this time, I wanted to go, find my stash of pills in the school grounds.

The sounds sounded familiar, but they felt different, because I knew they would be the last time I heard them, the last time I heard the bell of shops, the sounds of birds and trees rustling in the cold wind, the last time I was going to be around to zone out, focus on the smaller things, the sound of my shoes, tapping, the taste of smoke and sight of dirty concrete jungles.

I walked past the school gates, class was going to end in ten minutes, I had gone home and skipped P.E, hopefully, no one would look out of their ridiculously boring lesson, through dirty windows and see me walking to that same hidden spot I had argued with Patrick at.

The sound of twigs snapping and leaves crunching were some of my favorites, so it seemed a good last sound.

I dug through the multicoloured leaves and felt the cold water on my fingertips, I began to wonder whether or not I should do this, sure it felt like I'd lost everything, but I was gonna miss out on more, but no one wanted me around, but what about the dog I never got, but my own brother hates me, but I want to draw, and paint, but I can't even look myself in the eye out of fear and hatred for what I'll see, who I'm not seen with, but I could win it all back, but people just saw me as an ego boost, even when I tried to kill myself, it was just another chance to grab the spotlight, for a few seconds.

I felt a hard plastic in my hand and heard the rattling sounds of pills, it took me three minutes just open the bottle, man, I couldn't even kill myself right when I finally heard a popping sound, I looked down at my little white friends.

I took a handful, ten too many and swallowed them all, one by one, letting me grow more and more tired with each pill.

That's when I heard footsteps behind me, my vision was blurry, I saw sat with my back facing the path that lead towards the school, slumped up against a tree.

"Oh my god Gee," only one person ever called me Gee, but no way would he be here, he left, he walked out he moved away.

"Gerard, Gee, you gotta stay awake, I'm calling an ambulance," Frank grabbed me and pulled his phone out.

He was shouting at his phone but sounds and sights were blurred into a flurry of colours and sound.

Frank held me tighter, this was a good way to go, in the arms of the person I loved more than anything in the world, more than my oxygen, my blood, my life. He came back, he actually came back to me, he was here, he found me.

He loves me.

I felt my heart beating harder and harder, I slowly lost the feeling in my fingertips as paramedics picked my body up, Frank was stood, shell-shocked to see me half dead, he had called an ambulance and had stuck his fingers down my sore throat until I was hurling up pills.

All I could think of was him, his long black hair, how it differed in thickness, his soft curls swept back, his pale skin flushed with red, his dark blue eyes, like oceans, to drown in, to be swept up by, to be engulfed by, to have old water run down your back and remind you what being touched is like.

All the paramedic told Frank he was how he was taking me to Andersonville hospital.

I could hear faint beeping, which had now become a familiarity, and it was the last memory, my last memory.


	11. break my spirit, break my neck

**The entire story quickly told from Frank's POV**

The grey skies seemed too fitting like they knew my heartache and pitied me. they shone a pale white light into the small barred windows of my filthy, grimy classroom.

It had been six months since I left, six months since my parents told me we were up and leaving, no warning, no explanation, not a single fuck given about me.

I missed him so much, I missed his long hair, his round face, his warm hugs , I missed his voice, his laugh, his drawings I miss crying on his shoulder and him crying on mine, I miss being able to open with someone, being able to actually talk to someone, to be able to look into their eyes and see someone worth living for.

I can't deny that the thought of running away hadn't crossed my mind, one night, I had felt so god damn lonely that I thought about stealing away in the night. I planned out my escape down to the last cent. I had money, food, clothes, all packed in a waterproof bag.

"Frank, at least pretend to pay attention!"

"Sorry, sir,"

I felt like days dragged on forever without him like the sun had gone away and fizzled out.

Soon, the end of the day drew close, he quickly attempted to subtly walk past the group of dicks who insisted on pushing him over and hitting his books to the floor.

"Oi," he failed. he stood still, hoping if he didn't turn around to face them they would magically leave him alone.

"So, we found out about your little boyfriend."

Franks mind racing, what? How had they found him, what happened to him?

"I don't know what you're on about."

"Oh no, come on, one of the students tried to get in touch with you, through me. it seems something happened to him."

"What are you on about, who talked to you, what happened to him," Frank blurted out.

"Well, it seems pretty boy's cutting himself, wonder why, despite the fact he had the pleasure of meeting you, well it doesn't surprise me!"

Frank looked at him, intensely, he couldn't physically decide whether to break down crying, run away, punch him right in his fucking face, or just stand still and let it sink in.

He drew his fist and in one swift motion, he punched him right in the center of his face, knocking him out cold, the whole hall of busy students turned to see the skinny kid, who actually managed to knock out the toughest kid in school.

He turned around, ran straight home, letting the blood painfully pump round his body, sucking the air out of his lungs, but his mind was fixated on Gerard, he couldn't care less for the pain shooting up his body, he began writing a note to explain his whereabouts to his parents, grabbed his bag and headed for the nearest station, he just hoped he wasn't too late.


	12. we're permanently temporary

The bright lights felt as if they were drilling into my pupils, blinding me, I couldn't tell if it was blood or tears dripping from my heavy bloodshot eyes.

I was moving, _I_ wasn't but whatever I was lying on was racing down clean white halls, people were shouting.

"Hey buddy, don't do it, come back to us," the doctor said as he lifted me into a hospital bed. The next bit, I blacked out tooquickly to see, but when I woke up, I knew they had pumped my stomach, I'd lost enough friends like this to know how it goes, the doctors just didn't reach Ray in time, my best friend lost his whole family in a car crash and was put in the system, he was taken away, he was beaten black and blue, I couldn't see him every day like I used to, but when I did, I saw him change into a different person, like as if each time I saw him, he had slipped further and further. Back then, I had Frank, I couldn't possibly conceive what was going through Ray's mind when he took a whole bottle of Xanax, I wish I could say I still felt that way.

But Frank, my lord, Frank was back, he cares, he actually gave a shit about me, he felt the pain I was feeling, he missed me, everyone around me took pleasure in telling me he was happy I was out of his life, that I should be dead, that I did him and everyone else a favour when I slit my wrists.

The feeling of cold sheets and smooth material brushed down my arms, a breeze brought cool refreshing air to my lungs.

I opened my eyes, expecting to see people around me, but no-one was there, not my father, not my mother, not my brother, not even Frank. I don't even know why I expected them, of course, they didn't come, why would they, I'm just another burden, another bill to pay, another disposable.

A doctor quickly noticed me sat up in a confused haze and ushered two large men in white uniform to follow him.

"Hi honey," she said. Her doctors uniform was an uncomfortable blue.

"We need to have a quick talk," I immediately tensed and flinched, usually I was thrown down the stairs by my father, furious that I had gotten in a fight with other kids... and lost. "um when we brought you in, we had to pump your stomach, but it turns out, when we ran a few tests as a precaution, we found that these drugs are a regular thing for you," I immediately froze, why were they running tests on me, why couldn't they just let me die." Now the thing is, your parents have both signed you off to be put in a rehab program." Nonono they couldn't, surely they can't do that, I just got Frank back after he was taken from me, and now I was gonna be taken away from him, how can they say they want me alive and then take away any reason to live.

"No, no they... I... I don't wanna go," I pleaded as the two men came to either side of me, "please, PLEASE, DON'T, I DON'T WANNA GO, NOOO." I struggled from their grip and began crying.

"Stop, please, I don't wanna go, I, I, can't leave him again. No, please, pleeeeeeeease, I don't want to go, please don't take me away"

Against all my efforts they took me away, they took me to an empty room, with a table and clothes... oh, they wanted me to change clothes, they couldn't take me away half naked.

The pale beige clothes, similar to the ones my mother bought me, itched and scratched at my skin, I wanted to tear them off my body and let my skin breath, I had been suffocating for too long.

They then brought me on a bus along with about ten other kids, they all looked pretty fine, compared to me, with my long red hair, pale skin, and jet black eyes, they just looked like your classic short, brown-haired, clean-cut rich kid with daddy's credit card and a drug dealer.

I sat right at the back if anyone had to walk past me, I thought I might just throw up right there.


	13. we all die

They signed me in and escorted me forcefully to my room, it was plain white and was even barer than my own one back home.

I felt a hand push against my back and I stumbled in a few feet, half tripping over my own feet and the door promptly slammed behind me.

I looked at my small bed, it looked like something you'd see in prison.

I sat in it and just let the events of the last 24 hours sink in. They could only keep me here for another month, one month until I turn eighteen, one month till I never have to stare at a blank white wall wondering how it seems like it has a better life than I do.

I cold concrete walls made my skin prickle. I never did mind my jacket, I couldn't understand, I could swear I left in my room, and I remember taking it off and leaving it in my room, god, the trouble I had gone through to keep that jacket, my father thought it was ridiculous, like something out of a street gang, "not suitable for the family image," apparently nothing I did could please him, I couldn't run, I couldn't catch a ball, I couldn't irt with a girl, I couldn't be who he wished I was.

Wait a second, there were only three people in that house when it went missing, me, my mother who was hoovering upstairs the whole time... and my father, my dick of a father, the same father who said the second he got hold of that jacket, he would rip it to shreds to teach me a lesson, to help me fit in, to make me normal.

That bastard, he took it, he was drunk and most likely did actually rip it up, he had a tendency to get violent when he was drunk, even though he claimed he had the perfect little suburban family.

I had often stolen his alcohol, getting so drunk in my room that I pass out only to wake up hungover in a pool of my own vomit, to be beaten up an hour later when I got to school.

All I loved in the world other than Frank, who was practically a million miles away was that jacket, I had lost the love of my life, Frank had up and left, he didn't ecmven get a proper goodbye, I never got to tell him just how much I loved him, just how much I would do for him, how I'd take a violet for him, I'd cry for him, I'd die for him and then one day he was gone, it was like he was dead and I never even got to mourn his death.

I was awoken from my depressing trance by a knock at the door, a shy lady opened it and I stared at her, I knew I looked like the most pissed off person in the world, that's cos I was.

She straightened her back and cleared her throat, trying not to seem too intimidated and as professional as possible.

"You are allowed out for eight hours a day, you can read, chat to other patients, you can draw whatever you want but you can't stay here," she said.

other patients! they wanted me to talk to all the stuck up drug addicts here who were only here because it was an easy way for their parents to punish them.

I walked out of my room silently, she then took me to a what looked like a crash room, full of sofas, canvases and paints, and most of all, other kids.

The locks made a loud noise, a warning the dior was being opened, I could hear it outside the door, but they could definitely hear it inside as when I went in the room, all conversation stopped, fourth pairs of eyes glued to my body, a familiar feeling after being laughed at by the entire class for tripping, being puched, kicked, knocked out. Their faces looked astonished, "who exactly was this new edgy kid with bright red hair," they all thought.

I stoically walked over to a canvas and picked up a paint brush and dipped it in a pot of paint laid out for them, still with everyone staring in silence.

I blocked out their thoughts, their gasps, their judgement, I just focused on the paintbrush in my hands. When I was drawing, the whole world fell wary, I missed that feeling, I also felt it when I was with Frank.

Chatter erupted, all mutters recovering about me. I soon was lost to my painting, blissfully stolen by colour and texture.

"Hi, I'm Gina," a chirpy girls with pale skin and blonde hair said.

I shot her an I'm impressed look.

"Well, we don't usually get people like you here, we all think you're kinda cool," she said waiting for any sort of answer.

"Well, someone has to tell you how things work, we're let in here at 10:00 and we go back to our rooms at 18:00, breakfast is at 9:00, lunch at 12:30 and dinner at 5:30," she was now sat down next to me on the small plastic chairs attached to the round tables scattered around the room.

"That's about it, but you see that table over there, that's James Tinlin's table, whatever you do, don't sit there and do whatever you can do to avoid him, his dad is like a millionaire and constantly send him money, he practically runs this place, also if he asks you anything, just tell him the truth, don't lie, he has like, cyber ninajas outside of here, they look up everything, and I mean EVERYTHING . Oh well, you don't have to talk to us, but just stay out of his way," just like magic, guess who turned up infront of me, the infamous James. Gina quickly got up and hurried off, however, I paid no attention to him, I just turned back to the black painting I had infront of my hands.

"So, new kid, I do hope she just explained everything, but in case you didn't catch the gist, I run this place. Now I just have a couple questions," the room had quietened down, people watching the spectacle infront of them.

"So, where you from?"

I said nothing, only focused on the soft brushstrokes now forming a face on the canvas.

"I said where you from?" He said more aggressively, now his face only a couple inches away from mine.

I said nothing, I stayed sat on the hard seat and moved my wrist to form eyes.

"Look, I don't know what's wrong with you, what your addicted to, but I know your nothing more than a weak little puny disgusting fag, that's right, FAG, I can just tell your into guys, and it fucking discusts me, no wonder your parents threw you in her!" He said dramatically as shocked faces flooded the spectacle.

I didnt care, it's not like my life could get any worse, I was just focused on the long wavy hair now forming on my painting of Frank.

James picked me up by my shirt and we locked eyes, instinctively, I snapped the wooden paintbrush in my hands and held the sharp splintering end up to his throat. He he looked shocked as the sharp wood pressed his skin gently. People gasped at the defiant act. He immediately put me down and grabbed his neck to check for blood, of course, there was none, no one had ever rammed their metal ripples boots into his nevk before but I remember the feeling.

Those alarms sounded, the same kind I heard when I came in, three people walked in and grabbed me and James, for some reason, the two men dragged me out of the room and the other checked James for injuries.

They silently gripped my arms and brought me to a doctor.

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, you've been here ten minutes and you've already assaulted someone, I guess you just need some cool down time, you can go back to the crash pit tomorrow, until then, boys," she looked at the two men who stood either side of me, each gripping an arm of mine," take him to solitary." Solitary, my is, this really was like a bloody prison, I might as well be dead, how this was in anyway better I couldn't figure out.

They took me to a tiny room with a bed, toilet and sink, that's all, they chucked me in and locked the door, I was used to the feeling of being thrown in a room and locked in it, except I was usually thrown down basement stairs and locked in there for days at a time.

I lay on the hard metal l lump of material they dare called a "mattress". I just let my rage subside, I just let it all go, yet thought about how it wouldn't be too long until I was out of here.


	14. recovering the free fall

The morning was cold. I was woken by that same alarm I heard when I went to the crash pit. The same doctor opened the door.

"Breakfast is in ten minutes, you can go back to your room to clean up but then you should head to the crash pit for breakfast," she said. We walked until we got to my cell, room 206.

I let the cool water of the tiny rusted shower run down my back, let it reach every inch of skin on my shoulders. My permanently dyed hair cling to my forehead.

I looked at myself in the mirror, god I looked worse than usual, my withdrawal symptoms kicked in and I bolted to the small metal toilet and violently threw up the contents of my stomach, leaving my mouth feeling acidic.

My head felt like a million tiny pins were slowly being pushed into my forehead, and when they reached my skull, the just pushed through, cracking it.

When I entered the crash pit, it looked like I was early as there were only two other people there, one had short black hair with a quiff, the other had short wavy blonde hair.

I walked to the roundtable furthest from the door and waited, watched as kids all piled in, talking and gossiping as if the were at school like they weren't being kidnapped, we'll to them, this place was fine. But this place didn't have Frank.

I missed him so much, I seemed scared to even think of him, for fear of losing myself to his eyes and never waking up, not wanting to wake up.

"That was a stupid idea, he is gonna kill you," Gina interrupted my trail of thoughts and dreams.

"You know, which the paintbrush, he is literally gonna kill you."

"Better people have tried," I said, surprised at my ability to talk, seeing as I hadn't uttered a word since I got here.

"Well, you're talking and that's a start, no-one has ever stood up to him before, but he is gonna kill you, he finds out how you got here, who you love, who loves you.."

"No one loves me, why do think I'm here?"

"Well there must be someone, rumor is you're gay, and that's fine by me," she said shyly," I kinda am too."

I shared a small smile.

"So tell me about the guy."

"There is no guy," I lied, there was Frank.

"Well, we both know that's just not true."

"Um..." I tried to say something anything about Frank but I slowly felt my chest collapsing and couldn't get any air to my head, my heart.

"Sore topic, I know the feeling, my girlfriend cheated on me, so I took up weed, now my parents think I'm addicted, what made you get thrown in here."

"Umm... lots of things."

"Such as," she wasn't gonna let this go.

"Xanax, cocaine, heroin, alcohol and I was, I," I tried to tell her about the scars on my arms but ended up just rubbing them subconsciously.

"Oh shit, YOU CUT YOURSELF!"

"Shut up, you trying to tell the whole world," I said as I searched the room for any signs of people listening in, luckily no one did.

"Oops, sorry, we don't get people like you, we are all like, rich and just looking for a good time at a party."

I was looking to escape, to silence all the voices to ease the sharp pains.

"So you got any siblings?" she asked.

Oh god, I hadn't even thought about Mikey, I loved the little fucker, and he had his birthday in about a week, I was gonna miss it because I was stuck here.

"Umm hello, earth to weird kid," she said pulling me out of my endless free fall.

"Yeah I'm, I'm just, tired."

"Okay, well," she said turning around to the long line of people queueing outside a small panel of glass in the wall.

"Looks like breakfast is being served, come on, I'll show you how it works."

I got up and followed her to the line, looking at my feet, trying to avoid all eye contact.

I got my tray of disgusting food and made my way back over to the table at the back with Gina.

Suddenly my foot caught on James' and I was sent flying across the room.

My head smashed into the cold floor and I could feel the stares of people.

"So, you never actually answered my question, so, I had someone answer them for you."

What had he found, whatever he thought he knew, the reality was much worse. I stood up and was now only a foot away from him.

"So tell me about Frank."

I looked at his smug smile and drew my fist back, my fist collided with his jaw, sending sharp pains down my wrist.

I never bothered to fight back when I was back home, I thought I had nothing left to fight for, but I have Frank.

He spun around, clutching his jaw. He screamed in pain.

He lunged at me, grabbing both of my wrists and pinning me to the wall. Of course, no-one outside seemed to care to break up a fight and blame him, just me.

My sharp pain paralyzed my wrists as his palms dig into my old, sore cuts.

He noticed me wincing in pain and immediately pulled down both my sleeves to reveal my arms, he was shocked like he had just been hit by a car. He let go of me and I sunk to the floor, gripping my wrists in a hope to ease the pain.

He took a few steps back, his mouth open along with everyone else in the crash pit.

I shakily got up to my feet and hurried off to the back table, people whispering about me was something I was used to by now.


	15. talk to me

**Three weeks later**

I have been here too long, my dark black roots were showing, I spent a week at the toilet throwing up.

I had nightmares every night, sometimes about being held under water and having had my lungs slowly fill up with water, only to be thrown into flames and have my skin bubble and burn.

Three times, a warden had to come in and wake me up because Subconsciously, I'd bite my fist until it bled

James hasn't said a word to me, people have avoided me, and worst of all Gina, of whom I became very close to left yesterday.

Everyone I get close to is gone, Mikey, Frank, Ray and now Gina. I should be used to it but it still hurt.

Things had become routine around here, I would get my breakfast, spend a couple hours drawing whatever was on my mind, eat lunch, read a book and draw the characters.

People took pleasure in watching me, they didn't dare talk to me, but the loved to watch me draw.

My birthday was in two days time, I was gonna be out of here in two days, I was gonna be home in two days, I was gonna be with Frank in two days.

I went to the crash pit, as usual, I found my seat. Except, all my drawings, they were gone. I always kept them with a specific notepad and set of pens, which I made very clear to everyone, nobody was to touch them.

I looked everywhere, I pushed past confused kids. I searched tables, under chairs, by the bookcases, on the floor.

They were gone. I needed those drawings. When I was first diagnosed with depression my mother forced me to go to a therapist, she told me a million useless things, but the one good thing she did tell me was to draw, to vent my emotions, instead of bottling it all up until I began to crack.

I looked at all the faces around me, they were surprised to see me looking at them. I turned my head, trying to catch him the eyes of kids, my whole world was spinning, I felt like whoever had them was just starring me, laughing.

I felt the blood rushing through my head, swirling and blurring my vision and thoughts. Colors bled smoothly into each other, creating gazed of bright and chirpy colored paintings, similar to the kind I had dreamt about.

I felt my legs give out and my back hit the floor, my head colliding viciously with the linoleum floor. This brought memories of being at school back, being outside my locker, being attacked by people too lonely and fed up with their own lives to give a shit about the next person.

I felt a cool liquid on my scalp and my vision began to fade, black spots playfully pranced around the corners of my eyes.

Shouts of people and the alarm signaling sent me drifting into cool sleep.

They rushed me to a bed and began to fix my cracked skull, I wish I could say this was a new feeling.

It took me forty-eight hours to wake up.

When I did, the familiar white lights dig into the back of my eyes.


	16. bring me back

It was my 15 birthday, only three people were at my party that my mother insisted on throwing. Me, Frank and Ray.

We spent hours playing music in the hall we rented and eating pizza till we thought we were going to throw up. I could still remember singing to misfits and shovelling hot, cheesy, delicious pizza in my mouth, that was the last time me and Ray were together, he'd come down to see me and all I was focused on was bringing the life back to his eyes, I thought it had worked, I thought I'd saved him, but it seems, once a person falls too far, you can't save them.

When everyone left, we were on our way home, walking back to our house when we crossed paths with Patrick. He tripped me over on purpose and ran away, I felt like my whole world was tipped upside down and sent crashing down on me.

When we got home I ran to my room and wept because of the sheer agony I was in, my father walked into the rooms and saw me crying.

"Now look here boy, MEN DON'T CRY. EVER, BECAUSE MEN AREN'T WEAK. You should have fought that boy, beat him black and blue like a real man."

He picked me up by my collar and took me to the basement door, he threw me down the stairs.

"Now toughen THE HELL UP. Man up and quit whining," he continued to slam and lock the door, he didn't open it for over two days.

So, me being stuck in an infirmary of a rehab center alone wasn't the worse way I've spent my birthday.

All I could think of was my leather jacket, the one I had gotten before Frank had left. How good I felt in it, how safe I felt, how I could imagine the right leather gripping me was Frank's arms.

"Hey, So you hurt yourself quite bad, but today, you are eighteen and can sign yourself out of the program."

"Yes, YES, right now, I'm getting out of here."

She handed me a clipboard and I signed my self out, she gave me back my clothes and escorted me out the building.

The cool air rushed back to my lungs, I hadn't felt it in a very long time. It felt good to know Frank was breathing the same air as me, right? He, he wouldn't, he couldn't, was he just as bad as I was, did he cut himself like I did? I felt the cool air rush out of my lungs as quickly as it had come. He, he could've been as bad as me, I couldn't stand the thought of him hurting, and it was my fault, it was all my fault, I shouldn't have said goodbye, I should have gone with him, I should have given up my everything for him, because as soon as he was gone, I realised he was my everything, he was my security blanket, my hot water bottle for cold nights and thin covers, my shoulder to weep on, my whole life revolved around his smile. And he could've lost it.

I felt my legs collapse once more and I was brought to the realization that Frank was hurting and I was just focused on hurting myself.


	17. tripping over loosing you

With nowhere to go and no way to get there, I just began to walk home. The drive back home took about twenty minutes, but the walk took me and my pathetically unfit body an hour and a half.

I walked up to my front door, I tried to muster up the courage to knock, to face the family that put me in a rehab center, the family that hated me, the family that wanted me dead.

The door flew open and I saw him.

Frank.

He looked so good, how could he look good, why did he always look good? Did he not feel like he was suffocating without me, as I did without him.

He jumped forward and wrapped his soft arms around me, his head in my collarbone, kissing me softly, I held him in my arms, like I had dreamt of for so long. I smelt his long dark locks of beautiful hair and smelt that same coconut conditioner he loved, I felt his warm breath on my cold skin and it finally felt like the water around me had drained, like I didn't have to hold my breath anymore.

He pushed me back and slapped me hard around the face. I winced in pain and was so confused.

"YOU IDIOT, don't ever do that again, do you know what you put me through!"

"I'm so sorry, I, I thought you were gone, for good."

"You idiot, I couldn't leave you if I tried."

He grabbed my head and kissed me, he tasted so good, like I had been starved of him for six months, we kissed so passionately. Until my brother opened the door and we awkwardly stopped.

Mikey locked eyes with me for a few seconds, just long enough for him to process the fact that I was back.

He ran to me and wrapped his arms around my neck. I held him close and just breathed.

"I'm so sorry," my brother whispered as he cried on my shoulder.

"No, no it's not your fault, I'm the one that's sorry," I said, fighting back the painful tears.

He just hugged me tighter, we stayed like that for a few minutes.

"You can't go inside, you just can't. Mum says when you get back they're gonna send you off to military school."

"They can't I'm eighteen."

"I don't know how, but they've spent weeks looking at brochures and deciding where to send you and I don't want you to leave again, it was so quiet without you."

"Oh, Okay um," my kind racing, where was I gonna go, what was I supposed to do.

"Come with me, come back with me, you can stay with me for as long as you need."

"Frank, I know I should've gone with you back then, but there is no way your parents would let me back into their house."

"They would honest to god, we even have a room set up for you, we were gonna pay for you to come over for your birthday, but then we got word of what was happening and I just had to see you."

I waved to Mikey as we got on the train, tears running down his face, the poor kid would have to explain it to mum and dad.

We arrived at Franks house to open arms and warm meals.


	18. we lose each other to our own sins

**Present day (fifteen years later)**

I got home from the studio to our small apartment on the east side of New York. I smelt chili and felt a wave of warm cozy air as I unlocked the small wooden door. We had a wonderful place, it had brick fireplaces, cozy bedrooms, and a view of the whole city

Frank stood in the kitchen, opposite the front door, his black guitar on the small, grey, sofa and a smile on his face. I dumped my drawing-full bag next to his guitar on the sofa and made my way to him, I kissed him softly on the lips and took a moment to appreciate how lucky I was. How I had the most incredible person right in my arms. I thought of how far we'd both come.

He had joined a band called fall out boy and him and the others had just come home from touring, I had asked to leave early so I could meet him when he got home but was denied the luxury.

I had gotten a scholarship to an art school and an incredible job working for a hip comic book place, I loved it there, I was best friends with Gina, I tracked her down and she was the one that got me the scholarship, we've been best friends ever since.

We had never been happier, well, not until Jean came into our lives, we adopted her when her mother gave her up for adoption at birth.

She has beautiful hazel eyes, and the sweetest smile, she is only a year old and yet, I think she is the most intelligent, beautiful, adorable girl in the world. my favorite part of the day was coming home to her chuckling at the simplest of things like paper balls.

I remember a time in my life when I didn't want it, now, I couldn't imagine my self without it. Jean was at Frank's Parents house because today was date night.

We ate the most delicious food, Frank had a gift for food, he was incredible at cooking and my lord did I love it, we had tickets to see a musical that night.

we crossed the dark road, and that's when I saw them, two blinding headlights. Frank's familiar hands pushed me out of the destructive path of the car.

The ringing in my ear was violent, I felt my vision blurred and people screaming.

Frank, Frank, he saved me, he, he sacrificed himself for me, I ran to his body and held his bloody head in my arms, checking for a pulse, I felt it, but it was weak. he looked so cold and helpless, I hugged him as tight as I could, hoping he'd just burst back to his lively self, his blood stained my shirt. My tears fell on his forehead, he looked so peaceful, why did he have to look so FUCKING peaceful? If he as going to die, here and now, I just pray, with every living and dead cell in my body and every ounce of love in my soul, that he wasn't in any pain, half my body wanted him to never die, to hold on as long as he could, the other half of me wanted me for him to be dead, not because I could live with myself if he was dead, but because I couldn't bear the thought of him being in the sheer amount of pain he was feeling and I just wanted him to be okay.

"CALL AN AMBULANCE," I screamed at the driver, "PLEASE," I looked down at Frank, wishing it was me.

It wasn't long before an ambulance arrived, except this time it was him, not me.

I watched as the ambulance took the love of my life away, half dead, and tried to process what had just happened.


	19. can you save me

I had a painful ring in my ear and my vision was blurred, I heard shouting and screaming, it took me a moment to realize what had happened, to realize the person behind the wheel was drunk, to realize they were about to hit me, that they hit Frank.

I violently pushed past the group of people gathering around him, that's when I saw him, lying on the ground, blood on his head and his hands, I dove to the floor, weeping, and held his head in my shaking hands, checking for a pulse, a sign of life, anything to suggest he hadn't left me.

I felt it, I felt his pulse on his bloodied neck, "PLEASE, anyone , PLEASE HELP, CALL FOR HELP, please," I looked at the love of my life, I had to save him, I had to help him, he'd already save me, but I couldn't help him, I couldn't hold him in my arms and let him weep, because he was unconscious and I was the one crying. I held a hand on his wound to prevent bleeding and just held him as tight as I could.

It didn't take long for the ambulance to arrive and steal him away from me, I finally knew how Frank felt watching me be driven off in an ambulance, and it felt like someone was choking me, painfully.

I waited in a white hospital waiting room, my head still spinning violently. I'd called Sara, Frank's mum and she'd brought Jean over and we all waited, silently for any kind of news, on top of all my confusion, not only did I hope for news from doctors about him but feared it as it may mean Jean grows up without a dad.

I thought about that day, all those years ago, I was so lost and scared and trapped in the cold, dark. I never properly understood how it must have felt for him, to hold my half-dead head in his hands and look at my glassy eyes, I wish I didn't know the feeling, I wish I could wash the stains of his blood of my hand, off my clothes, get the spitting image of the life leaving his body out of my memories.

I held my child in my arms and slowly rocked her back to her blissful sleep. I wanted her to know how lovely he was, how beautiful he was, how much I loved him, how much I needed him, I wanted her to know about the countless times he saved me from myself. I wanted her to know him, to love and care for him as much as I did. I wanted him back.

"Frank, Frank way," a small doctor said looking at a plastic clipboard.

I rushed to my feet and so did Sara, she had been crying on my shoulder desperately for over three hours and I was trying with all my might to hold back my own tears "That's us!"

"he has just come out of surgery, he is in a coma, these next few hours will be critical, you can see him, but if there is a change his condition, we will have to act quickly."

"where is he."

"room 206"

Room 206, the same room I was put in after swallowing a whole bottle of pills, the same room I woke up in alone, Frank would not wake up alone this time.


	20. look at me

I sat in the uncomfortable hospital chairs and stared at the love of my life, no, not the one who had pipes hooked up to him, I don't know if I could bare to look at him, but the small innocent one in my arms, she had woken up hungry and I sat gently nursing a bottle, I was good at feeding her by now, a lot of the time, when Frank was on tour, I was left to look after her, and I loved every second of it, all three of us would facetime every night, because neither of us could bare to be away from her.

His heart beep reminded me of my own, the ones I heard in the ambulance as they prepared to pump my stomach, to pull the pills out my throat. I hoped that Jane never found out about me, and my childhood because it sucked, and I made a wish the day we got her to make sure she had the happiest childhood.

"Oh, oh my god, Gerard, Gerard Way," I turned to see a tall man in a plaid t-shirt and jeans.

"It, it's me, It's Patrick, Patrick Costello, we went to high school together," WHAT, no he isn't here, this isn't real, I'm imagining it all.

"Um hello?" he said.

I gave Jean to Sara and closed the door on the way out.

"Look, man, I just wanted to say sorry," he said apologetically.

"Look, jus-just stop."

"No, NO, I, I need to say sorry."

"I honestly can't deal with you now, okay, you look fifteen years older than you last did, I'm sorry for whatever you're here for, I forgive you, now I need to get back to my husband-"

"HUSBAND, oh Frank, no, I'm happy you guys stayed together. But please let me say sorry, I just came from an hour of my wife weeping on my shoulder, we... we just lost our baby and I realised how easy it is to die, I love my wife more than anything in the world and I, I have nightmares about that day I found you..."

"Look, I'm sorry for your loss, but I really need to get back to Frank."

"well, it's good to see your doing better,"

I laughed in irony, little did he know.

"What? You laughed, what's so funny, I just told you I lost my baby."

"no, I, I'm sorry, It's not you, just the thought of me, you know, doing well and stuff."

"What d'you mean?"

"Well my husband is in a coma, after saving my life from an oncoming car, waiting with our child, and I don't, I, I," I was chocking on the thought," I don't know if he is gonna wake up and now your here, I, I just need to get back to my husband"

"Oh, okay im, im sorry."

I walked back into the room and saw Frank, happy and awake, staring at Jean.

"Oh I'm sorry, who are you?" Frank said blankly at me.


	21. I hate it all

It had been three weeks since he woke up, three weeks since I had seen him, since I'd seen my daughter, and only one week till she turns two years old, and I wasn't going to miss it.

I had spent weeks researching where to find a specific rattle, she had watched beauty and the beast and fallen in love with the one Belle had, so, I had to search for the perfect gift, it was a little rattle, shaped like a red rose. I had wrapped it and tied it with a bow.

Frank didn't recognise me, he didn't remember me or the nights we spent together in loud storms eating hot meals, all the times we didn't have enough money for rent so we played our music into the cold nights, all the time that we spent swan-diving into the unknown and crashing hopelessly. I thought all the years of being tortured and torturing myself would all be worth it because I could forget those memories, and replace them with ones my family and I made.

He had taken Jean and I couldn't bear to fight with him over her, but I missed her so much and I hoped she knew it.

I bumped into someone and turned around to apologise but instead saw Frank there, a box the same size as mine, wrapped up in his hand.

"Sorry, Um," I tried to speak to him but even after all this time I still get butterflies, I still get nervous when he walks into the room and excited over his laugh.

"Can you just give this to Jean, for her birthday... please," I held out the box.

"Um yeah, okay, bye," and with that he as gone, that might be the last word I ever speak to him the last breath I breathe hopelessly aching over his voice.

I walked back to the crappy place I was staying in, I had given Frank the house so Jean could stay there, but I miss my bedsheets, I miss our sofa, I miss my old apartment, I miss Jean, I miss Frank.

 **Jean's birthday, Frank's POV**

I looked at my happy child, her grandmother sitting with her on the wooden floor, that guy... um, Gerard, I felt like I knew him from somewhere and it had been bugging me.

I sat down and handed her my gift, she looked at the box, confused, we laughed at the expression and I opened the box. It was a rattle, shaped like a rose, it was the perfect gift, I had spent weeks looking for one, no-ones present could top it, the guys in the band had given her toys and clothes and we ripped up paper until there was one more present left, a poorly wrapped box, similar to mine.

I opened it slowly, I, I, it was that same rattle I had got her, he really did love her, I had to find him, apologise, I said goodbye to my mom, Jean...

and the guy I had been dating for the past two weeks.


	22. Give me all you're poison

I knocked hard on the small plywood door of this crappy apartment after having run for twenty minutes just to get here, there was no reply, after five more tries and still no answer I tried the doorknob, surprised to find it unlocked.

I walked in and kicked broken glass across the room, there were clothes drapped on furniture, broken vases and ripped up pillows everywhere, but no Gerard, I walked slowly avoiding the havoc and saw it, our wedding photo, I remember it, I remember the wedding, I, I remember, I remember Gerard.

I ran to the only door and saw Gerard sleeping peacefully, he lay next to half a dozen empty anti-depressants bottles and two empty glass bottles of bourbon, Christ what had I done, he needed me, I remember him opening up about his abandonment issues, his friends always left him and he had a hard time processing his emotions, he often turned to drugs and I would help him out of it, he had been sober for five years, he relapsed, god I made him relapse, the last time he had alchol was the day his father died, the day of the funeral, he spent hours sitting scilently, not upset or unhappy, just emotionless, after everyone had gone, I walked Mikey out and when I came back I saw him, stood over his fathers casket, tears running down his face, but not the sad kind, but the angry kind, before then, I never really kne what his father was like, only that whenever he caught us together, he'd throw me out of the house and shout at Gerard, I never really stuck around after that bbut he looked so enraged, like he never got to say how muh he hated him, how much he despised him for the things he did to him as a child, how he never got to to be bigger than his father, taller, stronger so that he couldn't hit him anymore, when e firts got Jean, I offered for his parents to come round, but gerard made it very clear that his father was never to meet her, so we had his mother, whom after a year of Gerard and me running off together, split up with his father, and Mikey, who was simply the best uncle, he ould buyy her the cutest outfits and take her to do all her favortie things, I ran over to the smal bed and tried to wake him up, but he just lay there, it took a moment for me to realise he had been crying, his eyes were red and sore and there were tissues on the floor, "hey honey, it's me, I, I remember, I love you,"I said softly.

"F, Frank," I saw a tear rolling heaving down his face, I hugged him tight and he began crying on my shoulder, I stroked his hair gently and tried to calm him down.

"I, I'm so sorry, I'll never leave you again, I, I love you so much," he hugged me tighter and breathed in the scent of my hair.

I kissed him softly on the lips, I held his hair in my hand and leaned deeper, kissed him deeper, he tasted so good and I felt waves of memories flood back as I did, I remembered every movie night, every restaurant we ever visited, I remember Gina and I remember who I am. I ripped his shirt off and looked at the scars on his chest, he dipped his head in shame he hated them, he hated the ones that other people gave him but he wanted to cut the skin off and throw it away in the places he had done it to himself.

I kissed his chest softly and undid his belt.


	23. It rains and it pours

I walked up to my apartment door, I usually opened the door with my elbowed as my hands were preoccupied with shopping bags.

Frank opened the doe to see me, a sore nose and red rings around my eyes, he hugged me tight and took me inside, Jean was with Sara, in order for us to sort this whole thing out.

We sat on the bed and just held each other for a moment.

He wiped my tears away and sang softly, I hadn't taken my antidepressants and was feeling the consequences, my head hurt, my vision blurred and I knew it wasn't going to be long before I was glued b to the bowl of my toilet hurling my guts up.

"I'm sorry, I love you," Frank said softly.

"I love you too," he pulled me in and kissed me, he kissed my neck and stroked my hair.


End file.
